Strayed from the Path - Chapter 1 -

Strayed from the Path - Chapter 1 -

Chapter 1 – Boarding the Hogwarts Express

“Baby?” A woman’s voice rang throughout the walls of the house. A boy, a scrawny boy at the young age of eleven came pounding out of his room and down the stairs as he answered his mother’s call.
“Yeah, mum?”
“I’m going to go for a walk. I should be back in time so I can take you to the platform!”
“Alright, mum! I’ll see you then! Love you!”

Slam.

The slamming of a door quickly followed this child’s words, resulting in a sharp tug at his heart. His mother never said she loved him. She would write the words on piece of parchment in a letter whenever he went to camp; she would write he was the best thing that ever happened to her, but she’d never say it to him. He’d repeat the phrase, “I love you mum. I love you,” sometimes, hoping to get the response he was looking for, but she’d just stand there in silence, and after a moment, walk away. No words would leave her lips.
The boy, downhearted, retraced his steps back up to his room. His head hung low now, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced. Scars, scratches, dried wounds; they littered his skin, which was hidden beneath patched robes, save for the ones that were on his face, hands, and feet. Let’s face it: this poor boy was a wreck. He had been almost all his life.

At the even younger age of 5, he had been wandering about the forest that outlined his old house, -they had moved shortly after this incident- and got lost within minutes. He cried for his mum; for his dad, but neither seemed to hear him. The only thing he attracted was a growl; a low, menacing growl, followed by the shine of large, blood-thirsty amber eyes. Sounds and sights that were carved into this poor boy’s brain forever.
The next thing he knew, he felt a blinding pain in his ankle as he tried to run. Still, even now, that wound was there; well, it wasn’t a wound, per se - it was a bite. A werewolf bite. He lived in denial about becoming a werewolf for many days until he actually experienced the transformation. Then he believed. Boy howdy, did he believe.
For many, agonizing minutes during a full moon he would thrash as his bones shifted, he would cry out at the extreme pain that it caused, and his mind would begin to slip away. It seemed like an eternity before morning hit, and he awoke, only to remember little or nothing of the previous night.

This boy’s name was Remus Lupin.

Remus continued packing his things away neatly. Ever since that very moment that the curse was brought down on him, he had noticed a sudden change within his parents. His dad had left him years ago, after it had happened, but his mother stayed. He would have rather had his mother leave him in some sort of wizarding adoption agency than stay. After all, what point was there in having a parent if they didn’t love you? If they kept you away from people, hid you from their friends and never let you do anything outside the house?
But because he lived with his mother, he had been respectful; quiet. He never rebelled against her, he always did everything as was told, and tried his best in learning the magic she had taught him herself. Still, it did not seem enough to win the love for him that she claimed to have.
Some say that every parent loves their child deep down inside. Well, what of his parents? His father had abandoned him at the time he needed him most, and abandoned also his mother, but not after yelling at them, beating at them with hexes and his large, leather belt. Remus spat at the mere mention of his father. A few of his father’s scars littered his skin as well.
And his mother? ...Oh, his mother... What was he to do about her? He tried, he really tried, and still he could not get those three, simple words to leave her lips. He had not heard them since he was five, before the bite.

He slammed his trunk closed after he finished packing. Thinking of his parents was frustrating him, depressing him, angering him. He didn’t have a normal life, a normal family; hell, he didn’t even have normal clothes. They were all torn, frayed, patched...
Looking up at the clock that hung on the wall of his room, he noticed that it had already been half an hour, and his mum had not returned. The time was 10:00 in the morning, and he needed to leave by 10:30.

Where was he going, you ask? Well, this boy was a special boy, as you can already see. Bitten by a werewolf, dreaming of wizarding adoption agencies – ah, that gave it away. This boy was a wizard. He and his mother thought he would never get the chance to go to Hogwarts because of his ‘condition’, and by ten years old, he had given up all hope of ever professionally learning magic. However, the year he had turned eleven, a new Headmaster had been hired. He went by the name of Albus Dumbledore, and, thank the heavens, had sent Remus a letter, inviting him to come to Hogwarts a month earlier to talk.
He and his mother had discussed it with the Headmaster, where he would stay each month, how he would get by and the like. And somehow, they mad managed to work out a system. He would be spending his full moons in the shrieking shack in Hogsmeade, taking a path from underneath a tree called the Whomping Willow that was planted on Hogwarts grounds. The bad side was that he’d have to lie to any friends he made in order to keep his secret safe.

Remus looked up at the clock again. It was 10:20 now.
‘Wow,’ he thought somewhat bitterly. His mum said she\'d be there in time to get to King\'s Cross...
‘Time sure flies by fast.’

“Where is she?”

--------

There was another boy, far off from Remus Lupin’s home, and he seemed to be having it better off. He and his dad were playing quidditch out in their back yard, laughing, while his mum stood on the ground, taking pictures with her camera. This camera that she was using, however, was different. It produced the photos the minute they were taken, and each photo moved. Why was she taking so many pictures? Well, this was the day that her only son was going to Hogwarts.

Obviously this family was full of witches and wizards too.

Quidditch – that was a sport in the wizarding world. It was hard, and had to be played with many people, so basically, the boy and his dad were passing a quaffle –one of the many balls in quidditch– back and forth.
“Oi! Fly together, you lot! I can’t take pictures when you’re on separate sides of the yard!” Called his mum, snapping another solo shot of the boy as he did a barrel roll. Already, in front of her on the grass, were the pictures strewn about. She’d clean it up later, when they had to go.

The boy immediately shot towards his dad and they began to fly side by side, still laughing as the small woman took the shots.
“Are you going to add this to your gallery, mum?” Called the boy from his broom, flashing her a charming smile. His mum was a photographer in the wizarding world, and a great one at that. Her father, however, had quite a different occupation; he was an auror. ...Kind of like a police officer, but too, in the wizarding world.
“Of course, honey! There isn’t a picture I take that doesn’t go into the gallery!”
“You even posted that one where dad puked after New Years?”
“...Even that.” The boy shared a hearty laugh with his father, who was red in the face at the recollection of the memory.

This family seemed a bit more connected than the Lupin’s. These were the Potter’s. James was the son, Harold was the dad, and Jolene was the mum. James was a bit egotistical, mostly due to the fact that Jolene always shoved a camera in his face, and he adored the limelight. He was in almost every picture in his mum’s gallery, and loved the attention he’d get. Adults and their children would come in to view her gallery, possibly buy the photos if the quality was good enough; many of them often talked to James, asking what it was like to be on the walls of a famous photo gallery in Hogsmeade.

He often elaborated the stories a little bit, saying that he was always the center of attention, always talked to, and loved, all because of his apparently dashing features. That was his biggest problem – this boy was very egotistical. His mother often tried to tone down his ego; tried not to take as many pictures as she used to of James, but he always ended up being the most popular face in her gallery. He soaked up the attention he received. She didn’t think it was good for him, but didn’t say anything either. After all, what parent likes to drain the life and smile out of their child’s face?

Suddenly, in the midst of their joy out on their brooms, an odd looking creature came skittering out of the house. It’s ears were long and large, eyes wide with curiosity and respect for those he saw. What looked like a pillow case was wrapped around its waist, acting as a loin cloth, and it stopped by Jolene’s side.
“Mistress!” He called out, and Jolene stopped pushing the button on her camera to turn and look at the odd-creature; also known as a house elf.
“Yes, what is it Linny?” Replied Jolene kindly.
“It is but 10:30, miss! Time for the Potter’s to head to King’s Cross!”

“Ah, how right you are!” Came the booming voice of Harold Potter from the sky, and both the Potter men flew down and onto the grass.
“Aww, do I have to go, mum?” James asked disappointedly. Hogwarts sounded fun and all, but...it was school.
“Yes, dear, I’m afraid so,” Was his mother’s reply, a small laugh ringing in her words.
“We’ll see you at Christmas, love, so don’t worry.” Both parents wrapping an arm around the shoulders of their son, they walked back inside the house, gathered James’s things, locked up, and left for the Train Station as Linny cleaned up the photos on the lawn.

xoxoxoxo

“Get the bloody hell out!”
“Well, how am I supposed to get to King’s Cross?!”
“It’s only 3 blocks, Sirius! You can walk there!”

If one was watching this already odd scene from afar, one would see a large, somewhat haunted-looking manor. A boy and his trunk was on its doorstep, yelling at the people inside.

“Fine! Don’t expect me to come back for Christmas then, Regulus!”
“Don’t expect me to care!”

Scowling, the boy named Sirius kicked his trunk – hard – off the doormat and down the steps that led to the driveway of their manor. Hmm, yet another boy with a troubled family. When his feet met up with his trunk, he bent down and grabbed its handle, dragging it carelessly down the sidewalk. Some turned to stare at him, others just passed on by, a nervous look on their face. This boy was well-known around this wizard neighborhood – that’s right, wizard again. Sirius Black came from a strong, pureblood family, of which they were respected and feared at the same time.

And he hated it.

He was feared, wherever he went. Waited on, and often spoken of. The Black sheep of the family – or white, in this case. Rebellious to his parents, unwilling to live up to the duties of a respectful, pureblood son.

It took him some time, but he finally reached King’s Cross. Merlin, he would have charmed the trunk so it floated, - this thing was heavy! – but muggles were around the train station, so he’d rather not risk it.
After finding a trolley, he gratefully dumped his trunk onto it, now pulling it easily pulling it along behind him. As he observed the people around him, he could easily tell who was going to Hogwarts, and who was not. Muggles and wizards differed greatly in clothing. He couldn’t even understand how muggles could wear those...what do you call them again? Oh yeah: jeans.

Finding the appropriate pillar, he casually leaned against it, slipping through the barrier, soon seeing the sign which showed it was platform 9 ¾. Continuing to pull his trolley along, he stared at the large, scarlet train. He was happy now. He wouldn’t have to see his family until next July! He smiled brightly, holding in a squeal of joy. After all, Sirius Black didn’t squeal. Just as he reached the train, he felt his trolley take an odd turn, and--

“Ouch!”

Sirius whirled sharply around, spotting the source of the noise. He caught a glimpse of the glare of light coming from large, round glasses before he had to quickly grasp the trolley, which had been on the verge of tipping over.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sirius apologized hastily, steadying the trolley and adjusting his trunk so that it wouldn’t fall off altogether.
“It’s alright.” Came a woeful reply, and Sirius looked up to see the boy sitting on his large trunk, his right foot on his left thigh, his hands nursing the foot.
“I didn’t mean it.” Said Sirius again, and the boy nodded, looking up from his foot (he had not removed the shoe). He had large, round glasses, as he had noticed before, and a mess of black hair.
“I know you didn’t.” Flashing Sirius a smile to signal he was alright, he stood up again, picking up his trunk.
“James Potter.” He said, nodding again, but this time in acknowledgement and greeting.
“Sirius Black. Erm...” Sirius brought the hand that was not grasping the handle of the trolley to the back of his neck.
“Are you starting you first year at Hogwarts?”
“Yup.” James flashed Sirius another smile, his chest swelling with pride.
“I assume you are too, then.” James said this time, and Sirius nodded.
“Great! We can sit together on the train then.”
“Fine with me.”

----------

Unlike Sirius and James, two girls were already on the train titled The Hogwarts Express, in their own compartment, sharing their summer stories. Their compartment was the first on the train, so they could easily see the exit of the train, and easily exit once they reached Hogwarts. They, like Sirius and James, had met only moments before on the platform. One had fiery red hair traveling down to her shoulders, and brilliant, emerald green eyes, while the other had dark brown, almost black hair, traveling down mid-back, and chocolate-colored eyes.
“My older sister really doesn’t want me coming here.” Said the red-headed one with a slightly put-out expression.
“Oh yeah?” Asked the brunette.
“Why not?”
“We’re muggles. I’m the only witch, and Petunia – my sister – must have a problem with that or something.” Replied the red-head again, and the brunette nodded.
“Oh, I see. I’m half-blood. Both m’parents went to Hogwarts, but my mum was a muggleborn – like you.” The brunette sent a smile the red-head’s way, and the red-head smiled back.

The red-head’s name was Lily Evans, and the brunette Lorelei Wright. Both, though met only moments ago, were talking as if they’d known each other forever. They talked animatedly, used great gestures, laughed at the right moments, and everything else. Suddenly, in the middle of their conversation, just as the train began to move, the door slid open, revealing a slightly chubby boy; shorter than usual. He had beady eyes that darted to both girls nervously as they turned their heads to look at him.
“Oh, erm...sorry.” He apologized, suddenly looking down at his feet.
“I was looking for an empty compartment.” The boy began to walk away, but Lily stopped him.
“Wait!” And he stopped. “Yes?”
“What’s your name?” Asked both Lorelei and Lily at the same time.
“P-P-Peter.” Stuttered the boy pitifully. Lily sent Peter an encouraging smile, while Lorelei smirked, trying to hold back her laughter.
“Well, P-P-Peter,” began Lorelei in a teasing tone. “We’d love for you to join us.”

Peter’s beady eyes widened, and he shook his head. Lily could have sworn she saw a pink tinge in his cheeks.
“Naw, th-thanks anyway.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lily nodded as a farewell gesture as Peter shut their compartment door and left their presence. Once he was out of earshot, the girls sent each other a look. Outside, they both could hear a ruckus already. Both stood up to check it out, and as soon as they peeked their heads out of the compartment door, they were met by an odd sight.

“Wait!”